


Raw

by ninamalfoy



Category: Remember the Titans
Genre: Abandoned WIP, M/M, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamalfoy/pseuds/ninamalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He isn't like that, he repeats to himself, that isn't him, not Big Ju...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raw

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic that also was supposed to be the start of something big. What can I say? I'm good at starting, but not so good at ending... but I still like this.

Julius wakes up, sweating. What the hell was that?, he thinks. His heart is beating hard and fast, as if it's about to jump out of his ribcage. He tries to calm himself, but his jumbled mind won't allow it. The dream is still too vivid in his mind, too raw.

He isn't like that, he repeats to himself, that isn't him, not Big Ju, not him, not him, nothimnothim_nothim…_ but he can't help remembering how Gerry's eyes slowly closed, these black lashes meshing, he still can pinpoint exactly where Gerry's fingertips touched his sides, marking him. Circling. Too fucking real.

Lying there, eyes open, he feels the light sheen of sweat on his chest dry. The dream still is playing itself out over and over in his shell-shocked mind, and – to his humilitation – his dick, engulfed in the semen-soaked drawers, highly sensitive to the friction from the blanket which he's pulling up over his shoulders, gets hard again. He resists the temptation to squirm, to sneak a hand under the blanket and underneath the waistband, to give the required attention to his aching penis.

_Gerry moaning, bucking underneath him._

Giving in, he bites down on his full lower lip to drown any moan and uses both of his hands to slide his boxers down – not too gently, though. His dick slaps back onto his tummy and he jerks. Damn. Fumbling around with his feet, trying to get rid of the squishy wet boxers riding halfway around his knees and finally getting free, wriggling them off the right foot onto the floor, he slids lower. His right hand closes around his wet, slippery dick, hothard, the thumb circling the crown, soaked in old come and precum - and he shudders, recalling the most vivid bits of the dream guiltily.

_The hardness in Gerry's pants, hot against the inside of his thigh, rubbing up against his own painful erection through their jeans, the friction nigh unbearable. _

His fingers pulling out Julius' shirt out of his jeans, leaving hot trails all the way up to his shoulders and Julius hears a slight ripping sound, imagines the picture they present: him covering Gerry, up against the wall, a insignificant wall, pressing into him, but getting as good as he's giving, these big hands gripping Julius' shoulders, roaming his back, white on black and his white shirt is bunched up around his shoulders and throat, the side stitching shredded, and he's holding Gerry's head in place, bitingpulling at these lips until they are impossibly red, catching his tongue and sucking it in, slightly grazing it, finally delving into this sweet mouth, plundering it for all its worth, swallowing Gerry's breathless moans, feeling Gerry buck into him, Gerrys hands on his arse, using it as leverage. He grinds back, letting go of his head and instead closes his fists around Gerry's shirt's tails that somehow got untucked, rips them apart. Licks a searing trail down Gerry's jaw until he meets this juncture between neck and shoulder, nips sharply and feels a rewarding shudder. His left knee gets jammed between Gerry's thighs, trapping him effectively and providing a more intense friction and he's just seconds away from coming, his mouth clamping onto Gerry's almost-cry, their tongues dueling fiercely and it's almost as if they're trying to climb into each other, but just almost.

Gerry bucks up sharply against him, his death grip almost squeezing the breath out of him, and Julius feels something warmwet on his thigh and now Gerry's moaning desperately, carding his fingers through Julius' close-cropped hair, catching his mouth in another searing kiss, and Julius can't restrain himself anymore. He gives himself up in a blinding climax, humping on the wet patch spreading between them and his hands are slipping down Gerry's sweaty shoulders, pressing him to himself, intent on not leaving an atom of space between them.

Back in reality, the orgasm hits him almost as hard as the dream one, resulting in him biting down on his left hand, the mattress shuddering as he jerks wildly, overcome with sensations. He's breathing hard, slowly coming down from the high, his broad chest wet with patches of come, cooling off. Damn. He swipes his left hand, coated in saliva and throbbing fiercely - he wouldn't be surprised to discover bruises in the shape of his teeth there - on the damp blanket.

He had come off twice thinking about Bertier. His best friend, his _brother_, goddamnit! This was just too fucked-up for words. A fluke? Did he eat something yesterday evening that didn't agree with his mind? Snorting, he shakes his head. Julius, get a grip on yourself. The dim light of a cloudy morning shines through the thin drapes, and he squints at the clock on the nightstand. Five to six am. A run through the woods would be just the right thing to clear his mind. He swings his legs out of the bed, wincing slightly as he slides over a wet patch.


End file.
